


The Ghost of Christmas Past

by lokithegodofsass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, basically everyone is a memory or a dream but cas, dream character - Freeform, idk what this is but it's weird, memory characters, merry christmas?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokithegodofsass/pseuds/lokithegodofsass
Summary: The angels made a habit of watching humans celebrate the holidays, since the end of the year brought so much joy to God’s prized creations, but Castiel only paid attention to one family.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idkspookystuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkspookystuff/gifts).



> Happy happy holidays, everyone!  
> If you want to know what the plot of this is, I honestly have no clue. This is a gift for my boi [Sebastian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/choirboycas/pseuds/choirboycas), who (whom?) I love with all of my heart. Obviously, this fic doesn't exactly prove that.

_Castiel technically wasn’t supposed to pick favorites. It was going against some rule of nature that had existed since the dawn of time and the garrison loved their rules. And yet, the first time he had seen Dean Winchester’s glimmering green eyes blink open he was instantly captivated. It didn’t help that Michael had appeared and gave Castiel a curt nod when he was watching Dean nap and had stated “this one is special.” Castiel had turned to ask him what he meant, but he had already left._

_The angels made a habit of watching humans celebrate the holidays, since the end of the year brought so much joy to God’s prized creations, but Castiel only paid attention to one family._

_Since he was born in the first month of the year, Dean was older than most babies are when he had his first Christmas. It was filled with awed coos at the lights on the tree. His parents had dressed him in a green jumper and put a Santa Claus hat on him. Within five seconds, his grabby hands had reached for the pompom and he began to suck on it. Mary had run over in a panic and tore the hat away from him, which had led to frightened tears until John decided to distract him with flickering lights. His second Christmas had been more exciting and he had spent it playing with his brand new stuffed bear and sharing a pie with his parents.  
_

_On his third Christmas, Dean had gotten a train set and a mini replica of his father’s car. Castiel didn’t understand humanity’s fascination with motorized vehicles, but Dean’s excited laughs as he pushed the train around its tracks made him feel something that could only be described as happiness. Mary was watching from a distance with her feet up on the couch, her eyes falling to her small baby bump with a tearful smile. Dean had drawn his new sibling a Christmas tree, which Mary had placed on her refrigerator, and he spent the evening describing the lights to him over hot chocolate and a slice of pumpkin pie as Mary’s hand rustled through his hair and she and John exchanged pride filled looks. He had looked over at his parents and declared how excited he was for his little sibling to see all this for himself next year.  
_

_As it turned out, Sam’s first Christmas had been spent in an empty motel room, with Dean sitting on the bed and watching the floor anxiously to avoid rats. There were no presents and John had been gone for the day and Dean was doing his best to not fall apart. Mary was gone and the loss tore John to pieces, to the point where his Christmas celebration consisted of extremely spiked eggnog and passing out on the bed. Dean had sprinted across the floor to pull the blanket over him before a rat scurried towards him and he had climbed up on the bed. He had eventually fallen asleep using his father’s legs as his pillow. When John woke up the next morning and looked down at his son, he realized the mistake he made. Hangover and all, he dragged himself to the toy store and got Dean a Lego’s set and Sam a small rattle. Dean had still been asleep when he returned and John had to shake the usually light sleeper awake. John presented him with the set and, for the first time since the Winchesters lost their entire world, Dean smiled. Castiel watched this moment unfold and spent the rest of the day carrying himself a little taller._

_Castiel watched as Dean quickly lost his adoration for the holiday season, only putting effort into it to keep Sam from becoming as cynical as he was. Christmases became quick trips to the gas station in search of anything he could pay for with the spare change he had spent the week collecting and wrapping it up in old newspapers detailing mysterious deaths in the community. Castiel could see how not being able to do more for his brother plagued Dean and wished he could create a miracle just to see him smile over Christmas again. Adolescent Christmases involved Dean burying himself in alcohol and sexual endeavors until he had no choice but to acknowledge the day for his brother’s sake._

_Once Sam left in pursuit of a higher education, Dean made his best effort to completely ignore the holidays. His tradition of drinking alcohol until he couldn’t remember his own name and partaking in messy intercourse with a girl that was just as lonely as he was only got worse, but the growing pile of dead shapeshifters and wendigos also served as a distraction. As far as he was concerned, there was no one left that was worth making an effort for. Castiel could almost feel his melancholy and yearned to break the ‘no showing favorites’ rule just once so he could feel the same satisfaction as the rest of his garrison did as they watched in tact families open gifts and share memories and laughter._

Now it was 4:30am on Christmas morning in 2016 and, despite Castiel’s efforts every December, Dean still put a lackluster effort into the holidays purely for Sam’s sake. Castiel was sure that the boy that described Christmas to his mother’s stomach in such innocent detail had died along with said mother when an idea struck him. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it earlier and went to go find Dean in his new home, a federal prison.

The rest of the prison had fallen asleep hours ago, but Dean was playing an absentminded game of Solitaire. The prison guards had quickly figured out that keeping him and Sam in the same cell led to trouble so he had been moved to a cell on the other side of the prison. They still found their ways to communicate and Castiel was once again amazed at how clever the Winchesters could be when faced with spiting a superior. He needed Dean to be asleep for his plan to work.

A little coaxing should do the trick.

Thanks to the power of angelic suggestion, Dean was unable to resist letting his eyelids flutter shut. He was in a deep slumber within minutes and Castiel felt it was safe to enter his subconscious. Dreams hadn’t started to develop yet (thankfully, there was one awkward occasion when Dean had been reminiscing about his encounter with a pretty brunette he had met at a bar and Castiel had to leave before dream Dean could see him) and Castiel was transported into darkness, with dream Dean staring off into the distance.

“Cas?” dream Dean called out, turning towards him quickly. He stood up to wrap him into a tight hug. “What the fuck? Where have you been?”

“Personal endeavors,” Castiel answered simply, reciprocating the hug. Dream Dean pulled away at that, his eyes glinting with annoyance.

“Yeah, while you’ve been involved in your ‘personal endeavors’, Sammy and I have had to learn how to shit in front of criminals,” dream Dean snapped, taking a few steps away from Castiel. “Please tell me that that’s why you’re here. To get us out of this hellhole.” 

“Not exactly,” Castiel started.

“Then why are you breaking into my head exactly?” dream Dean whirled towards him, the annoyance in his gaze only becoming more prominent.

“I would like to show you something,” Castiel closed his fingers around dream Dean’s arm. “As a gift. I believe that this is what this time of the year is about.”

“Cas, not this bullshit again,” dream Dean rolled his eyes. “You know how I feel about Christmas. Just give it a rest.”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel’s gaze turned pleading and dream Dean succumbed. Even in his subconscious, Dean couldn’t resist what humans called ‘puppy dog eyes’. “I worked hard to obtain this for you. All I’m asking is that you go along with it." 

“Whatever,” dream Dean mumbled after a moment and Castiel closed his eyes gently. The wind whipped at his hair and the darkness quickly became blinding light that cleared away and turned into the Winchester’s old living room.

_“And there’s wrapping paper everywhere ‘cause Daddy is too lazy to pick it up.”_

_“Hey! I had to help Santa lug all of your toys out of his sleigh. I’m allowed to be lazy.”_

“Cas?”dream Dean turned towards Castiel. Annoyance had been replaced by confusion and was slowly being flooded by realization. “Where are we?" 

“Your repressed memories,” Castiel explained. “This particular one was buried deep.”

_“Oh, and I got a new train set! A train is a bunch of cars chained together and it brings people to different places. It drives over tracks and goes choo choo. I’ll let you play with my trains when you’re old enough.”_

“Why are we here?” dream Dean demanded, unable to keep his gaze off of his younger self. “What, are you the fucking ghost of Christmas past or something?”

“As a reminder,” Castiel provided, “of what this day really means.”

_“There’s a lot of lights on the roof and Daddy put reindeer antlers on ‘pala. She looks really silly!”_

_“John, dear, would you mind getting us more pie?”  
_

“I know what the day really means,” dream Dean was angry, but his voice inflected in that particular way so Castiel knew that he was angrier at himself than at Castiel. “But I’m not exactly in a position to enjoy that, am I? I’m in fucking prison for an assassination attempt and this isn’t even the worst holiday season of my life. So what are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” Castiel responded, redirecting his attention to the memory playing in the background. “This is my favorite part.” 

_“And I drew this for you. This here, that’s a Christmas tree. Mommy helped me draw the star. I didn’t know you can make them in grown up cursive writing.”_

_“Dean, are you done with your pie?”_

_“Wait! I have to finish telling the baby about the drawing. These are four presents here. One for you, one for me, one for Mommy and one for Daddy. But next year, we’re gonna be together and it’s gonna be awesome. ‘Cause Christmas is more about family than about our stuff.”_

Castiel chanced a glance at Dean, who ran his fingers under his eyes to catch stray tears. Castiel didn’t understand why humans felt the need to guard themselves when they were feeling sad, but he supposed that now wasn’t a good time to ask. Not when it was his idea that had caused this reaction.

“Dean,” Castiel started, resting a hand over his shoulder. “We can go.” He was interrupted when Dean rested a gentle hand over his and shook his head.

_“Merry Christmas, baby.”_

“Thank you.”


End file.
